


Induction

by Menirva



Series: Learning to Fly [2]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: But he likes it?, F/M, M/M, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Sassy Barsad, Seriously guys take it easy, Torture, Very rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menirva/pseuds/Menirva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before TDKR.</p>
<p>Barsad had always been theirs to take. Now was simply the time to claim him.</p>
<p>(Prequel to Clipped.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A short three-part prequel I wrote for 'Clipped'. You don't have to necessarily read Clipped first but it might make more sense if you do. The sequel is still coming and I will start posting it mostly likely once I am done putting this up!

**(Banner created by Neffie. http://archiveofourown.org/users/originalneffie)**

“If you are certain,” he finally replied after a moment of consideration.

He did not question. He knew her will to be iron, and he would always bend to it without question. She simply smiled in response and trailed her nails lightly down the exposed flesh of his chin to his neck where her hand curved, and he felt the deceptively soft brush of the back of her fingers stroke his bare throat.

“Bring him to us. He will prove himself.”

Bane hissed out a soft sigh at the warm touch. The missions Ra's al Ghul had been sending him on as of late were becoming more frequent and considerably more lengthy. This was no secret. Talia’s lips would tighten in quiet anger when her father would send him off while managing to find a reason she must stay. Bane had his suspicions that things would worsen instead of improve, but for now there was solace together and it would not be squandered.

He took the tips of her fingers into his own large hand and gave them a light squeeze before he left her presence and sought their brother. It was no surprise to discover him among the supplies from their return, efficiently checking each item for weathering. Their last journey together had been long and difficult, surely more men could have been sent to quicken it and yet Barsad had been the only man to volunteer without question, to pack their supplies with the assumption that he would accompany him, though Ra's al Ghul had given no such word.

It had been this final action that had sealed for his sister their brother’s place with them. Before their departure from her, she had pressed herself to his side and whispered her orders to him. Bane considered his brother now, the way his shoulders dipped in subservience, how his neck tilted ever so slightly so it was more bared whenever Talia or Bane entered a private room with him.

Bane at times wondered, with a trace of amusement to his thoughts, if his brother even realized his actions or how strong his desire to serve them was. As always, Talia had made a wise decision. Bane closed the distance between them and wrapped his hand around the back of his brother’s neck, digging his thumb into the smooth expanse bared for him.

_______________

  
Barsad stilled his actions and relaxed into the sudden touch on his neck. There had been a time when he misunderstood such actions from his brother; the result had been… painful. Now he understood that Bane did not touch to seduce. It was instead to claim, to mark Barsad as a comrade. Barsad felt warmth pool into his belly at such moments between them now.

Bane’s hands were weapons. Barsad had seen them splattered with all manner of grime and gore. He had felt them snap his own arm like a matchstick when he had unwittingly confused and agitated his brother by offering his body. Barsad had never expected to feel the light touch of a hand to his hair, such an intimate action was one Bane had only ever performed with Talia, but now he felt it when they were alone, an unspoken marking of Barsad as his own.

Talia had claimed him in her own ways, as well. She gave to him a most precious of gifts, her trust, how she would speak to Bane in front of him and censor nothing, how he had only ever witnessed her to share a plate of food with himself. Even her father’s bowl went untasted by her, a sign of formality, of distrust. It had been offered once, at a meal to celebrate a successful mission completed. Talia had pretended not to notice the offer over the din of the celebration. Bane had not been welcomed to attend, and while Bane would not care, she would never ignore such a slight against him.

She had walked instead to sit beside Barsad on the floor in a quieter area of the hall. Barsad had seen she carried no plate and slid his own between them out of politeness, never thinking she would grace him with the sight of her brief look of surprise, the press of her mouth in quiet contemplation, and then her slender fingers reaching to break off a piece of his bread. She slid the morsel through the small dish of olive oil on his plate and pressed it to her lips. Barsad wisely did not remark, but had been inwardly baffled at the display, hesitating to resume eating from the plate until she seemed to notice and fixed him with a brief look.

“Eat, my brother.”

Her brother. They were two simple words that were not used lightly by Talia, ownership and familiarity claimed over him. He broke off a piece of bread and ate with her. It was a simple meal, not the lavish spread of her father’s, but they shared it together in quiet companionship. Through it he could feel Bane’s eyes at his back, an almost invisible watcher from the halls.

Barsad had waited to be rebuffed by his brother later for his forwardness with his charge. No such punishment had been forthcoming, though, and when he had found himself with them next, around a campfire alone, Talia had been the one to settle a plate between them. Barsad had reached towards it without thinking then recoiled at the boldness of his actions, his horrified eyes going to Bane’s who barely paid him heed as he stoked the fire.

“Why do you hesitate what has been offered?” Bane finally asked.

When Barsad found that his words had suddenly and inconveniently left him, Talia had laughed lightly at his internal misery.

“Eat, my brother,” she had ordered him, and who was he to disobey?

Now, when Talia traveled with them, he only brought one bowl. Now, when alone with Bane, he often shared a bedroll to conserve the warmth of the day between their bodies. Barsad felt himself daily becoming more and more swept away by them. His life in the League had somehow become a secondary thing when it came to his dedication to them. He had not even been aware such a change had been taking place until he had been teetering on the edge of it. With their last mission, he had toppled willingly. When he had heard Ra’s al Ghul’s orders for Bane, he had known that a final decision had to be made then. He had followed, and now his fate was sealed. He was theirs now, only loyal to the League as long as they willed it.

Now his brother’s hand was running down the back of his neck, to his shoulders. Barsad tipped his head forward to accept the attentions given. There was a warm pat to his back before Bane pulled away.

“Come with me, brother; our sister wishes you.”

There was something in Bane’s words, something he could not recognize. Danger, perhaps, but he was willing to face it for them. He was sure he could withstand anything they wished to be allowed the honor of simply remaining in their presence.

_______________

  
On her most fanciful days, Talia liked to imagine her protector whole beneath his mask, that the cage he wore was a barrier to protect his pure soul from the rot of the world. She knew the truth, of course; she had demanded to see him the moment he had been raised up from the pit by ropes. She had not been allowed to journey down, but she had waited and bounced on the balls of her feet in anxious worry that her protector was gone, that he had abandoned her. Instead, he was dumped from the ropes where he sprawled out onto the gritty desert floor.

It had been three long years since her flight, but she knew his body anywhere. It had been the one to hold her through unimaginable suffering. Those hands that had rubbed her back were now digging into the sand, clenched tight in pain. Her father voiced a warning for her to stay back, that the man he had found was heavily sedated, near out of his mind, but she did not heed it. She dropped down to her knees and reached for the bandage-wrapped face that was now buried half into the sand.

The digging fingers stilled when she spoke his name. His body tensed and the hidden face turned further from her.

“Let me see,” she had demanded softly.

He shook his head; the first time he had ever denied her.

Her still young face furrowed into discontent. “Let me see!” she demanded louder.

The last time he could ever deny her was here before them. He obeyed, instead. With effort, he rolled onto his back. Her hands fell to his face quickly. She had not yet grown into her hands, and her actions were clumsy still as she desperately tugged at the bandages on his face. He did not speak, though, did not flinch as she came away with handfuls of the bloody rags that had once covered his face.

His eyes finally met hers, beautiful and laced with unspeakable pain. They fell quickly down, but she followed them, met them with her own fierce ones. She was a child of the pit, and she would let her protector have no shame for the marks he now bore for her, each one a testament to what her freedom had cost him. She took his hand instead and climbed onto his belly, nestling herself against his chest, ignoring the men around her who stared and who could not possibly hope to ever understand the sight before them. She felt a weak hand at her back, one that would grow strong again, in time; one that would protect her, and until that time came again, she would protect him.

No, Talia had known the very moment Bane had left the pit the marks he bore for her, but sometimes it was the child still in her that could pretend he was whole.

Still, such fanciful thinking did not suit her now when he entered her presence again, Barsad following at his heels. They were in her private chambers, the only location in the League where the walls did not have eyes and ears; the one place her father did not wish them. It was a simple game, one as old as time. The father pretending not to see what went on in his daughter’s bedchambers, and the daughter having the discretion to not let it be something that would become a scandal.

When Bane was home, he slipped into her chambers in the night and took his rest with her as she pleased. Such actions had occurred from the moment he was brought into the League, long before innocent sleep became something more. Before, only her protector had ever been welcomed into her chambers. Now Barsad was with him. His eyes were alert, curious, but he was, of course, disciplined enough to not twist his head around and gape at her private quarters.

She nodded to them in greeting and padded over with bare feet to stand on the tips of her toes, guiding her protector’s head down with her hands so that she might kiss his brow. Though he did not yet know the extent of her expectations for him, he would please her well tonight, she was certain of it. Barsad looked away at the intimacy, politely pretending not to see it as he always did. Talia had always found him to be such a curious man, the only person that had ever struck even a passing interest with her beyond her protector.

She took Bane’s hand into her own and played with his palm, listening to the soft hiss of his breathing change into something slightly faster as he understood her intent.

“Good evening, Barsad,” she greeted him more formally, watching his reactions, how his eyes flit from her hands, to Bane, to the floor, then to her own.

“Good evening, Miss Talia,” he finally replied, a small measure of hesitance in his tone.

She forced her lips not to twitch up into an amused smile at the name. Oh, how insulted she had been when Barsad had first addressed her as such, as a “miss” anything. She had been young, still, barely budding when he had first used it, sitting on the lone stool that occupied his lab while he changed out her protector’s medication, something she always watched with a fierce stare and, before she came to trust Barsad, a hand on the knife tucked into her belt should he, or anyone else, dare try to take advantage of Bane’s moment of weakness.

The exchange had not been going well. The design of the mask had been changed recently to allow better distribution of chemicals, but Barsad had not been given the specifics and now found during the changing that the vials he constructed were a poor fit. Bane was receiving some relief from the waning vapors of the old vials while Barsad hastily worked to refit the new ones, but the pain was coming back into his eyes; Talia could feel it, how her protector’s muscles tightened and his breath quickened, like an angry bull, just beginning to rage.

“Miss Talia,” Barsad had spoken quickly, but with surprisingly no panic in his voice as his nimble fingers were only inches from Bane’s face and so very breakable. “If you would please, he must not breathe away the remaining medication so fast or it will be gone before I can fix this. Might you calm him?”

She had stood quickly from the stool, surprised as she quickly padded over to lay a hand on her protector’s arm, feeling the tension there as her small hand worked to rub it away. No one in the League had acknowledged her connection with Bane before, all seemed to find it simpler to just ignore their obvious bond, not wishing to draw their leader’s ire over something that displeased him. Here before her now was a simple chemist, clearly not among the strongest men here, who had done so without hesitation, who did not flee the room when there was risk. Who, during the exchange, when Bane’s hand suddenly shot up to grip his arm, had certainly jumped, but did not cry out or try uselessly to yank away. Instead, he looked towards Talia questioningly, who, again surprised, had carefully drawn both of Bane’s large hands to her own small ones.

“Thank you, Miss Talia,” had been Barsad’s final verbal remark on the entire exchange, when he had at last managed to work the fresh chemicals into the mask and fix it back into place. He left his own lab then, to give them privacy.

She had rubbed Bane’s arms until most of the pain left his eyes. Finally, they were able to focus on her again, a slight twinkle to them.

“Miss Talia,” he rasped out.

Her mouth had popped open in surprise at the tease, and she had pinched him in indignation. She settled in his lap when he wrapped his arms around her and let out a slight huff.

“Do not even think of calling me it.”

He had snorted softly, rubbing his fingers into her still shortly-cropped hair. “Shall I correct him for this slight?”

She considered it thoughtfully then shook her head. “No, but you should train with him. He is not a fool, and it is wise to have a man who knows how to exchange the chemicals as an ally.”

“It is my understanding that he created them.”

Talia had been surprised by that then, but nodded slowly. “Even better.”

In the end, Barsad got away with calling her “Miss” when no one else would ever, and had likely no idea the beating he had narrowly avoided. Bane had taken up his training. Barsad had been surprisingly strong, a man of many skills, and an amusing wit when he was in relaxed company, but as a chemist his training had been rudimentary compared to that which others received in the League. Under Talia’s instruction, Bane had worked to fix that. It had not been long until Barsad became formidable on his own, a force to be reckoned with in the training halls.

They had perhaps been building towards something all along, though none of them knew it at the time. Talia knew her place in her protector’s world. He had whispered her importance to him, to the world, when she was still small and cradled in his lap. She was his leader, his goddess, and one day, together, they would cleanse the earth. He had also told her of another role, one she felt had finally been filled but had only to be clearly defined to its holder.


	2. Chapter 2

_______________

  
Bane watched as Talia’s hands left his person and she walked to Barsad, running her fingers through the short, coarse hairs of his beard. Barsad’s usually almost sleepy looking eyes were now widened by the amount of confusion they held.

“My father is displeased with you, my brother; he wished you not to join my protector’s side on this mission.”

Barsad nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement; despite his caution his eyes were slowly drooping again from the repeated stroking of his beard by Talia’s clever fingers. “Am I to be punished then, my sister?” he asked lightly, accepting of such a thing.

Talia shook her head. “You are to be rewarded.”

Bane stepped behind him and drew an arm around his brother, pulling him so his back was flush to his chest, “Where do your loyalties lie, brother?” In truth, Bane knew the answer, but for his own self required to hear the truth spoke aloud before he could accept what was to occur.

The words that came were without hesitation, the heartbeat that Bane felt through the thin cloth of Barsad’s shirt was rapid but steady. “My loyalties lie with whomever my sister and my brother wish them to.”

A clever answer from a clever disciple. Bane watched, a smile hidden behind his mask as Talia accepted his answer and pressed to their brother’s front. He could feel the heartbeat beneath his hand jump, the startled intake of breath that was pulled into his lungs as Talia claimed her first kiss, choosing to take it from their brother in lieu of being able to do so from Bane.

_______________

  
So shocked was Barsad, when he felt those lips press to him, that he snapped his head backwards. It did not have far to go, a mere inch and he was banging back into his brother’s solid chest. He could not fathom what had caused such an action, nor why it was repeated when Talia made a soft noise of amusement and pressed forward to steal his lips again.

It was heaven to feel her against him, her body so soft but strong and clad only in a thick robe, molded to his front, her lips plush but fierce. He could not pull away, and so he accepted as he knew he must the possessive kisses, the bite of her teeth over his lip, her tongue, quick and slick flicking over the swell of her biting claim. His breath came now in short, forced pants through his nostrils but he kept his mouth still so that she might have what she wished. When he remained otherwise unresponsive, she finally withdrew slightly and laughed softly against his lips, “How am I to learn to kiss when you refuse to teach me?”

He felt himself let out a soft whimper of confusion, cursing himself inwardly at the display of such a weakness. “I do not… I do not know what you wish of me,” he finally admitted in a desperate whisper.

He could feel her smile against him before she spoke, “I wish you to kiss me, my disciple.”

Barsad did not understand the title, only that when she used it he felt right inside, like the pieces of him that had come apart through the years by their hands were now snapped into place and fitting under this new word for him, her disciple, one who worshipped and obeyed her. He dipped down to kiss her gently, trying to express such things with his action. Truth be told, Barsad had not nearly the experience others had with a kiss. A kiss was an intimacy he shared with few, even when he bedded with them, but for her he poured his soul into it.

He brushed over her soft lips with his own, placing tiny pecks to the corners of them before he let himself grow bolder, let himself meet her own passionate actions, he licked into her mouth and for a brief time he tasted her as their tongues met. She was the one new to it, but Barsad felt like the one about to swoon like he was still young and without experience. Finally, when she pulled back to look at him, Barsad was relieved at the satisfaction he saw in her eyes. He wanted only to please her.

“You have been wisely chosen Barsad.” Her hand was in his beard again and he shivered now at the touch. He was hard and knew she must feel it digging against her belly. He wanted to apologize for the forwardness of his body, his worthless self-control, but mostly he wished to not draw any attention to it at all.

He let out a sharp gasp when her hand found him there. She replied to it with a throaty chuckle, and he grunted when she crushed her hand to him, his body jolting in confusion over whether or not it should find the act pleasurable or painful. Her nails twisted and caught into the fabric of his pants, making the cloth pinch around him. He bit back a hiss. It should be painful, and it was, but his cock did not soften; he could not understand it.

He did not try to pull away from her, though; if this was what she wished of him, he would bear it. He would show her how deep his loyalty ran, that he could be strong for her. He felt his brother’s hand tap a light beat onto his chest before his hands worked at his clothing, removing each piece with precision until he was bare before them both. Barsad felt no shame in his body, he knew it was well fit and not unappealing, but he was deeply embarrassed by how it was behaving now, so much so that were he still just a little younger he might have blushed.

As it was now, when he felt Talia’s nails tug at the coarse hair nested around his member, he bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut tightly.

“You are part of us now, Barsad. You belong to us,” she whispered softly and he nodded. He knew that. He’d known the moment he made his choice to follow Bane. Perhaps he had known it the moment he had seen them together. A towering man, his fingers being held by a small fierce child as he was ushered to the medical wing. He had felt something strange as he watched them in the halls of the league, the strength and bond there that was spoken without words. When he had inquired out of curiosity, he had found himself volunteering to take on the laborious task of creating an improved analgesic.

Now he was being pushed down onto a thick mat. His bare back felt the sudden shock of cool against it. He settled himself back for whatever it was they wanted of him. He wondered for a moment if they would tie him, but realized they would know it to be a waste of rope. He would not struggle to escape.

Talia walked over from the fireplace, a metal dish carefully balanced in her hands. When she knelt down beside him he could see the top of the plate, heaped high with hot coals. His stomach lurched slightly and he closed his eyes. He would be strong for her.

She picked up a small pair of tongs and lifted a coal, watching his reaction. Barsad worked to show her no fear, no reluctance on his part for her actions as the live coal was placed onto his chest. His body jerked as it burned into his skin, but the sounds that tried so hard to come from his mouth were denied by his clenched teeth. She left it there to burn into him and he did not try to remove it; he instead worked to keep his body still, balled his hands into tight fists as she lined coals down to his belly, balanced them on his arms. He would not let them fall any more than he would allow the sounds of pain that threatened to leave him escape.

He could smell his skin burning; it must be revolting to their senses. He felt like he should apologize for that, but did not trust his mouth to open. He kept his jaw clenched shut with the exception of when he bit down onto his tongue to silence it. When he heard the slight clink of the tongs being set on the floor he dared to open his eyes and look down at himself. He was lined with coals, decorated like a piece of tortured artwork.

She leaned over him, holding her hair back carefully as she blew out over the coals, making them glow bright and hot once more. He almost tore into his tongue with his teeth to hold back his sounds, to be still.

He could hear her voice over him. “Is he not finely decorated for you?”

“You wish me to take him?”

“It would be a shame to waste him. Look at him, how hard he is. If he was any more erect, his cock would be touching the coal on his belly.” Barsad could almost hear the laughter in her voice. He clung to it like a man drowning in a sea tossed a rope, and parted his thighs willingly when he saw his brother begin to remove his clothing. Barsad could not deny the arousal still warring in his body. He was not a masochist, pain had never been something he eagerly accepted nor did he find it sexually exciting, but he was serving them. He was giving himself to them, and his body could not restrain itself from the thrill the action brought him.

Bane knelt between his thighs, looking down at his bared offering. Through the burn of flesh, Barsad could detect the faint scent of perfumed oil, and he could hear the sound of flesh being stroked slick. Talia’s now shining hands were on Bane’s sizeable manhood. Bane’s head was tilted back as he groaned out his pleasure. Barsad would have thanked them out of gratitude for at least this small bit of preparation, but he did not wish to seem weak in it. Instead, he tried to prepare his body for the inevitable intrusion.

His entrance was dry and unprepared when he felt the blunt, wet tip of his brother press to it. He could not lie to himself; he was no virgin, but this would be excruciating. Bane’s hands dug into his thighs, held him open, and Barsad was grateful for that as he did not trust his body to not try to keep Bane out. He felt himself clenching shut involuntarily, and worked to keep himself open as Bane thrust his hips forward. It was not a snap of the hips; it was slow, steady, like he was certain that Barsad would open for him at his leisure, which was the truth of the matter, after all. Just the head entering him burned, he felt himself rapidly stretching to accommodate the girth, but without preparation he could feel himself ripping inside with each inch pushed in. His insides were being torn as Bane mercifully bottomed out inside of him, forced Barsad’s body to rearrange around him as he desired.

When Bane shifted his hips, Barsad’s body could not hold back a tremor and the coals slipped from his arms to burn into the ground.

It hurt. It all hurt so very badly, and Barsad felt so ashamed, but he could no longer restrain his mouth without aid. He brought his hands up and hid his face, biting down roughly into the flesh of his palm and praying that he would be forgiven for it, that Bane would ignore the slight and simply ignore him and use him as he pleased.

He felt her hands on his wrists, pulling them away from his face as they both looked down at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he forced out, barely not flinching at the soft whimper of his tone. “I am trying.”

They exchanged a look over him, Bane’s one of questioning and Talia’s followed by a confirming nod.

“Why do you fight it so, my brother? You are in great pain.”

“I am ok, I can handle this,” he grated out between his teeth, half begging; if they ceased, how could he prove himself to them?

Talia’s eyes were on him. She looked so displeased with him, and his heart ached, so much more painfully than his body. He was trying so hard, and yet he was failing her.

Bane’s hand pressed roughly against a burn on his arm and he bit his tongue, seeing the edges of his vision cloud from the effort.

“You misunderstand this, don’t you, brother? You think you must be strong for her?” His voice was almost, perhaps, pitying.

“I must,” Barsad agreed, swallowing down the blood that had gathered in his mouth from his own teeth to his tongue.

“You must not,” Bane disagreed. “Do you think you were chosen purely for your strength, brother? There are countless men who can give our sister their strength. No. You will give her your weakness.”

He shook his head in confusion, only to feel his cheek cupped by her graceful hand, her face swimming in his vision. “Do not hide yourself from me, my brother. You will bare your soul before us. Show me how weak you are willing to make yourself for me.”

Her words were breaking him. Of everything they might take, this was the hardest thing they could ask, for Barsad to show weakness when he had been trained his entire life to know only strength, to never be truly vulnerable before any person. This would surely rip him apart. Perhaps that was the idea.

He took a breath and let go.

His mouth dropped open and he let out a whimper at all of the pain that had been reaped from his body. The action felt so wrong, but, when he looked up to Talia, he saw beautiful approval in her eyes.

Then his eyes grew wet as Bane’s hips snapped forward, drove into him with such a painful, claiming force. He could feel himself tearing further, could feel the blood that dripped out of him. He let himself scream, then. He writhed and thrashed out, beat the flats of his fists onto the thick mat as Bane thrust himself into him, grunting low and with pleasure to his tone as Barsad was reamed open, used; in this moment he was an object designed for torment and pleasure.

Talia’s face was close to his own. When he opened his mouth to cry out, to whimper in pain, her wet tongue dipped out to lick at his lips as though she were tasting and savoring the suffering pouring out of him for her. His body was wracked with a sob as a particularly rough thrust finally sent the rest of the coals on his body skittering off of him and onto the floor.

She was smiling; her hand pressed to the burns on his chest and his back bowed up as his body shook with agony. “Still, Barsad? You are leaking.”

It was true. His body was on the verge of blackout from the pain, and yet his own cock was rigid against his belly, his excitement leaking down onto the burns left behind from the now-displaced coals.

“Your suffering is beautiful.” She brought a hand to his face, gathering the tears that ran from his eyes and holding her hand up so he could see its wetness. His face went red with shame.

“It pleases me.”

He trembled at the honesty in her words. The snap and pull of Bane’s hips had settled down into a dull, buzzing ache between his legs; perhaps his pain had reached such a point where he no longer could respond to it. Now when Bane pulled back, he felt empty, the rough rush of cock that slid back into his abused hole was wanted and welcomed. He worked for his brother’s satisfaction. His hips suddenly rolled up to meet Bane’s. The action seemed to surprise them all. Bane’s hips stilled and Barsad could not fight the soft whine of dissatisfaction in the motion.

He could hear the deep rumble of laughter above him and the friendly pat on his knee, one of the few places that did not pain him. “How your body works to please me, brother.”

He laughed in return through the pain. “It is a difficult task,” he admitted. “I did not know this morning that I would be taking a bull between my legs.”

There was a pause and then he could hear Talia’s husky laughter by his ear. He smiled with joy to be the one to cause it. His eyes were on her as she drew back from him, and her own eyes were bright with the knowledge of her power. Her thick robe was slid from her shoulders and Barsad’s eyes went to the tanned skin revealed to him. Her fingers pulled at the loose knot of her robe and he inhaled sharply when her body was bared to him so strong and beautiful.

He did not have long to admire as he was distracted by the sudden feeling of his brother pulling out from him, leaving him empty and in more pain than he had been while filled.

“Onto your knees, brother,” Bane ordered him. Barsad could hear how his voice now sounded thicker with desire. It was not a simple thing to draw himself up to kneel, his arms shook and finally Bane either grew impatient or realized the extent of his weakness because his hands were gripping him under Barsad’s arms and hauling him up, making him groan in pain, but he knelt. He looked where had had just laid and saw the blood and ash there, the sweat that had poured from his body mingled with it. It was filthy.

Talia lay back onto it anyway. Barsad wanted to protest her choice, but it was not his place. If she wished to do something, she would, but Barsad knew the filth of the mat was so very beneath her. He was captivated as she ran her hands up the smoothness of her thighs, fingers trailing up to the nest of curls covering her womanhood. Stroking fingers parted the folds there, and Barsad could see the wetness glistening, brought on by her viewing of them.

 She breathed out a heavy sigh as her finger rolled over the swollen nub of her clit. Barsad was captivated as she parted her legs, revealing herself without embarrassment to them. He could feel his arousal throb to the point that it became just another part of the pain in his body. He wished to taste her, to please her with his tongue, but he could think of no way of offering such a thing that would not seem presumptuous of him, and so instead he watched her fingers grow wet with her own arousal, how she sighed and stroked herself, the muscles in her thighs shifting and tightening as her belly flushed with desire. He could hear his brother’s breathing just behind him quickening to match hers.

Her wet fingers left the folds of her pussy and reached up for him.

_______________


	3. Chapter 3

  
Talia watched Barsad’s face, his eyes, as she beckoned him down and pressed her fingers into his mouth. It was quite a beautiful face, but beauty in itself meant very little to her if it was not matched with other qualities. However, Barsad had such qualities to offer her, and so she admired the body in front of her, the way it was burned and red for her, how blood smeared his thighs, the thick cock that only seemed to grow more eager with each torment its owner was put through, and his lovely face, so twisted with pain and desire, so far from the stoic look the rest of the world saw.

He panted hard and wrapped his lips around her fingers, licking away her juices. She found the sensation new and quite lovely. His mouth would certainly be a welcome addition. She considered grasping him by his bearded cheeks and guiding him between her thighs, but she could see her protector’s body was eager to return to what had been interrupted. Though she knew Bane would never complain to her, she did want him to have his pleasure. Now was simply not the time; she would have her disciple’s mouth another day, at her leisure.   

She guided Barsad down for another kiss. This one required less coaxing as their disciple was wearing thin, being pulled into a fog of pain and bliss that left his mind open for her to play with. She moaned softly and threaded her fingers into his hair as she tasted her own flavor on his lips. She felt Bane’s presence as he leaned over them, watching the act closely. She only wished she could one day give him the same.

She brought her damp hand up to his mask and pressed it along the grate, listening to him deeply inhale as he took in her scent and made a low noise of contentment. She could not see his movements while she kissed Barsad, but she could feel him, could feel the surprised moan from Barsad vibrate against her lips when Bane took hold of his cock, guiding it to her slick opening.

She felt the warm press of his tip there and sighed softly, then arched an eyebrow when Barsad squirmed and tried to pull back, wincing when Bane’s hand left no option for him to move. She gave his hair an impatient tug.

He shook his head to clear it and stammered; it was almost charming enough for her to forgive the fact that he was not sliding into her. “I-I am sorry, it is just that… I have no condom.”

She laughed at his words and pulled him closer for another kiss, stroking his cheek and letting his forehead rest against hers as his breath brushed against her in excited pants.

“There is no need. We know you are clean for us, and measures have been taken.”

He nodded against her in relief and ceased his struggles. Bane placed a hand to his hip and began again to guide him in. Barsad held his breath, his eyes closed tightly. He did not attempt to move on his own, he simply let himself be positioned how they wanted. Talia felt the gentle stretch of him inside of her, and she welcomed it, clenched herself down around it. She wrapped her arms around his chest, amused at how much simpler such an action was when it was such a struggle with Bane.

She pulled him down flat against her. At first he fought her out of instinct, seeming to perhaps think he might crush her with his weight. She might have laughed at the notion; she bedded Bane, Barsad was nothing when compared to Bane’s mass pressing her into the bedcovers. A firm pull and the warning dig of nails into his spine, and he collapsed against her as she wished. She guided his head to her shoulder where he nuzzled and mouthed at her skin in clear worship. She suspected he did not even notice the way every burn she had marked him with was now pressed against her, but she could feel the inflamed skin, each mark a sign of what he was willing to endure for her.

She looked over his shoulder and nodded to Bane who shifted his mass closer. She could feel every muscle of Barsad’s body that was pressed to her tense up in agony as Bane reentered his flesh. Talia could also feel the way his cock twitched inside of her as he realized their intentions, realized just how he would be used by them now. She sighed in pleasure when Bane’s entrance into him forced Barsad deeper inside of her own. He was smaller than Bane, but Bane’s size, while wonderful, was at times a hindrance to how hard and fast he could take her without it causing her pain. Now, Barsad could be used to take on that pain, and Talia would be able to relish the ferocity of her protector through him.

There were only a few slow thrusts, just to be sure he had found a proper angle for the unfamiliar position. Barsad moaned with each one, and Talia was certain it was in pleasure. Then the pace quickened, Bane’s hand came down to rest flat beside her shoulder on the mat, and she reached to stroke her fingers along the thick muscles of his arms.

“Faster,” she ordered firmly. “Make me feel it.”

He grunted in response, his eyes more wild than he usually felt comfortable letting her see, as though he might actually frighten her. Perhaps he would never fully understand that she lived for these moments, when he was so overcome he became like a wild creature. He gripped tightly at Barsad’s hip now; she could see the purpling there on his skin already as Bane began to drive into him. She gasped and scraped her nails along her disciple’s shoulders, relishing how Bane’s movements forced him to piston into her at a thrilling pace.

She rolled her hips up in response, pressing into the crushing weight above her; the pressure there felt almost as good as the steady strokes of Barsad’s cock being pumped into her by Bane’s hips. Barsad was making soft, broken noises, and she could feel him weeping openly against her shoulder; they had reduced their fierce disciple into a helpless, hurting little lamb. The thought made the pleasure that curled in her belly and pelvis snap apart and unfurl through her entire body as her mouth dropped open and she shivered through her sudden climax. She knew Bane could sense it above her, the way Barsad was suddenly shoved against her, forcing him deeper and grinding into her. She cut into his flesh with her nails as the rough churn of Barsad’s cock against her clenching walls drew out her orgasm, forced it into prolonging and drew out a soft sound of content pleasure from her, one that she would deny every time after, but she could sense Bane’s smile from coaxing it out of her.

_______________

  
When Bane heard her lose herself in orgasm, saw her walls drop and her cheeks flush with the pleasure of it, he felt himself lose control. It was not uncommon, often when he felt her silky tightness clench and ripple around him in climax he lost any semblance of reserve, safe with the knowledge that her body often went lax and receptive after her peak and she would not be harmed.

Barsad was another matter. He had suffered exquisitely for them, but that time had now passed. He could feel his dripping hole clenching around his cock, swollen and puffy from the abuse it had been given. Even as he began to let go, he was mindful that he would need Barsad to join him in climax lest he become even more damaged. There were soft, barely-there grunts beneath him as he moved, the slide into his brother having been tight and rough with friction before, but now he was open and slick with grease and blood. The once-tight ring of muscles had given up trying to protect against his intrusion.

His sister watched them both, clearly knowing of his desires, and he saw the approval in her eyes. Her hand came up to stroke along the shell of Barsad’s ear. She tilted him closer and whispered into it. Above the noise of their joining, the heavy breathing, the words were lost to Bane, but he could just barely see Barsad’s face, how his damp eyes closed and he let out a choked sob as his orgasm shook through him. Bane took the opportunity to plough into his now slack hole, reaching to palm his ass and squeeze him tighter around him, enjoying the new friction. Talia was petting Barsad’s hair now as he was used and he moaned still for Bane. It took only a few moments for Bane to eagerly join them, a rough shove that make Talia gasp softly and he was spilling into his brother, his seed mingling with the blood and grease inside of him.

He dipped his head forward and let himself enjoy the sensations of afterglow for a few long moments, smiling behind his mask when he felt Talia’s fingers stroking across his cheek. He let out a soft rumble of contentment and opened his eyes to focus on her.

“Did he please you… Miss Talia?”

Her lips twisted into an annoyed pout and she pinched at the exposed area of his cheek. Under him, he could feel the faintest tremor of laughter leaving Barsad’s ravaged body.

“You have a terrible memory,” she hissed out, though truly she could not hide from him the sparkle of laughter in her eyes. He snorted and removed himself from his brother with care, and then carefully observed the damage. It did not seem like he would need a doctor if he had bed rest. Barsad did not move much, but let out a sleepy almost-grumble of protest when Bane guided him out of their sister to lie on his back on the floor. His front was a mess, his now soft cock smeared with seed and Talia’s juices, the burns angry and inflamed looking, and there was some bleeding where the friction of their fucking had finally ripped them open.

Talia sat up and looked him over. “Did we break you?” Her voice had a rare edge of teasing to it.

“I am happily broken,” Barsad reported back with a weak smile. Bane shook his head and stood with a low groan, walking over to the bathroom to come back with damp towels. With effort, Barsad rolled to his side and reached for one. Bane looked on in approval when the first thing Barsad did was reach with still shaky arms to wipe the sweat and dirt from Talia’s back. Bane cleaned himself and then joined him in wiping her skin clean before he turned his attention to Barsad. He used a fresh towel to wipe away the blood and grime from him. Talia stood to fetch an ointment to prevent infection, and Barsad hissed in pain when it was applied to his most sensitive area. Talia seemed to approve that he continued to not hide his pain from them.

“Can you stand?” she asked, taking a dab of ointment onto her fingers and rubbing it onto a burn on his arm.

“If that is what you wish.” Barsad shifted slightly and winced. “Or perhaps I could crawl,” he admitted.

She pursed her lips in amusement and stood again. “Bring him to the bed. He will be useless for work for days. Perhaps I will find use for him in my bed, instead.”

Bane let out a light chuckle at the yelp Barsad let out when he was lifted, clearly not having expected to be picked up as a child and carried over to Talia’s warm bed.

“I may bleed on it,” he protested mildly as he was laid out. Clearly his body was causing him great pain, still, but his spirits were high from the rush of endorphins and a new sense of belonging.

“You will bleed on it many times, I am sure,” was all Talia said in response. Bane did not miss the way Barsad’s breath turned heavier at the promise. She followed them and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his bare chest.

“Come to bed with me, my protector. Let us find out how his mouth feels in the morning.”

He ignored the soft groan from the bed, amusing though it was, and instead ran his fingers through her hair, feeling content when she rubbed her warm cheek against him. He guided them onto the bed, indulging himself by spooning her smaller body against his. It was not a position she allowed often, but he knew it was one she would relent to tonight, especially with how it allowed her to reach up and curl her fingers in Barsad’s hair possessively. Their brother was already unconscious, exhausted from his trials. He pressed his mask into the small of her neck, inhaling deeply to take in her sweet scent before he found his own rest with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote! Hope you enjoyed this small look into Bane/Barsad/Talia's past (or at least how it happened in my mind).
> 
> Shameless plug- Follow me on tumblr for fic updates, random nonsense, and feels!  
> http://relevantlyirreverent.tumblr.com/


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